


Darkened Stars

by Teyke



Category: Avengers (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Villain!Tony, evil!AU, villain!Steve, villains in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teyke/pseuds/Teyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Irredeemable Iron Man has been captured, stripped of his armour, and thrown into prison to await trial for his innumerable crimes...</p><p>All according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkened Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro/gifts).



> For kuro. I hope you have a great 2015 and that this fulfills your desire for evilness – I had a lot of fun writing it! 
> 
> Many thanks to both teaberryblue and runningondreams for all your help :)

The buzzer whines, some god-awful frequency that makes Tony’s teeth hurt, and the gate rises.

“Proceed,” drones the guard, safely on the other side of the bullet-proof glass. Tony gives him a two-fingered salute as he passes – the guy is smirking. Tony smiles back, nice and friendly, and lets his eyes linger on the guy’s face, committing it to memory.

He used to _let these things go_. He used to brush it off – or have PR plaster it over – whenever a reporter got in his face when he was trying to enjoy a nice date out with Steve, whenever some dick protestors picketed the offices. He was so _nice_ to them all. It sickens him to think of now, how he used to let them walk all over him.

The guard’s smirk fades beneath his regard. People know better now – and this one, who let himself forget? Who let himself think he was nice and safe with Tony Stark, Iron Man, behind bars? Well... it’s true, Tony probably won’t have time to catch the guy this afternoon, and he’s planning to be gone from this prison by suppertime. But _after_... well, it’s never too early to plan on a little dessert. And unlike the inmates, the guards do leave the prison... go home to their families...

His arbitrary timeframe gives him about six hours. Right now, lunch is just finishing up. It means that there’re plenty of prisoners in the lower level cafeteria, which Tony has just walked into, completely unarmed. Stripped of his armour. Defenceless.

He draws eyes almost immediately. It’s the goatee. He rubs at his chin thoughtfully – Steve’s always telling him it’s too eye-catching, but then Tony’ll tease him by offering to shave it off, and – well. Steve’s quick enough to assure him that the benefits _far_ outweigh any drawbacks.

Take now. He’s got three heavies approaching him: Doc Oc, the Rhino, and the Shocker. All three are wearing inhibitors: the Shocker won’t be shocking anybody except with his ineptness, the Rhino’s feet don’t make the floor shake, and Oc’s extras arms are restrained... thankfully, because that last one might have actually worried him otherwise. This is what Tony gets for helping the Parker kid for so many years, before he woke up and saw the light – prisons full of enemies, when, really, they ought to be his allies.

Allies is a strong word. Minions, maybe.

Nobody’s bothered with any sort of inhibitor on _Tony_ , of course – he’s just plain vanilla human, facing three-to-one odds. Around them, the other prisoners clear out. Tony glances up at the balconies above, but the guards... aren’t moving. Hah. They’re still sore – as Steve would put it – from when Tony busted Thor out of high security here last year, probably. Upwards of three hundred burned and smoking corpses... and they still don’t put an inhibitor on him. If it weren’t for Steve wanting to keep this one on the down-low – relatively – Tony would be tempted to see _just how high_ he could boost his kill count this time. Would they start getting the picture then?

“Been a long time, _Iron Man_ ,” Oc says. “I hear you’ve changed. Lost your protective shell, I see.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit tied up,” Tony agrees, and grins. “So’re you, I see.”

“But I have... friends,” says Oc, spreading his hands and indicating the two standing beside him. “Whereas – oh, dear. It looks like there’s nobody here to come to your aid.”

Tony glances around in an exaggerated manner. “Huh, funny that. Now that you mention it, where _is_ Steve?”

“Solitary,” Oc says, mock-mournful. “What a pity. No one to save you – ”

Steve’s location – now obtained – is really all the invitation he needs. The Rhino’s the biggest target; Tony steps into a back-kick and drives one foot into the Rhino’s face, smashing his oversized nose – no stronger than an ordinary human nose under the inhibitor’s influence – into his brain. The Rhino drops like... well, like a downed Rhino. Steve taught Tony that move – of course, originally, Steve taught him to aim for the jaw or temple, knock-out blows. But later... later, Steve taught him otherwise. This is the first time he’s gotten to use this particular variant on a live target. The crunch beneath the crappy prison shoes sends exhilaration racing up his spine; before the Rhino hits the floor Tony is completing his turn, going low, kicking out the Shocker’s feet and grabbing at him as he goes down, slamming the guy’s head against the floor with all the strength he can muster. Tony might be grade-A human, but it’s enough to crack any likewise ordinary human’s skull – and the Shocker’s not far enough from human to be saved.

Two years and they still haven’t _realized_ , these villains, anymore than the government has. Back when he helped put them away he was a _good_ guy. That meant no killing. That meant holding back.  He’s beyond that now; _they’re_ beyond that now. And with daily sparring against Steve – even if it often turns into a totally different kind of sweaty writhing on a mat – Tony’s gotten _good_ at this.

The only thing that saves Oc is the tasers from the guards on the balconies above, as they belatedly realize that it’s not _Tony_ who needs to be protected.

Tony laughs through the convulsions, into darkness. 

* * *

He wakes up in a tiny little cell. Four walls of concrete, but beneath that he’d be willing to bet they’re lined in lead. Still... this is definitely solitary. He’s closer than he was. It might be enough to get a signal through.

The sub-dermal communicator in his ear is made of state of the art bio-synthetic materials. It’s exactly like the one Steve was wearing a few days ago, when he went in to take care of an old friend. Tony prods at his jaw cautiously – he'd deactivated it before getting himself caught. No point in inventing a super-sneaky communication device and then getting picked up because it was broadcasting. A faint crackling lets him know it’s been reactivated.

“Steve, I swear to god you’d better be here,” Tony says, eyeing the room again. The angle between the bunk – bolted to the wall – and the door... yup, that’ll do nicely.

He smirks, and lets it melt into a real smile as he hears Steve’s welcome voice in his ear. _“Tony? What are you doing?”_

“You were supposed to be back yesterday. What, you expected me to let you rot in here?”

_“I expected you to come in guns blazing.”_

“Hey, I know it was important to you to make this one quiet... you got him, right?”

 _“Yes,”_ says Steve, but his voice has gone all sad and sober now. _“He’s at peace.”_

Even after two years, Steve still doesn’t take the joy in freedom that Tony does. Maybe it’s because he used to be all about freedom: Tony was enlightened, but Steve was just disillusioned. It’s the only thing that really makes Tony frustrated, anymore. Everything else can be dealt with via bombs and death – no limits. But Steve... Steve still holds himself back. It’s the only thing that can make Tony feel afraid anymore: the thought that one day, when it counts the most, Steve will hesitate.

“Great,” Tony says, trying to be encouraging. Sometimes it helps Steve just to know he’s not alone – that was half the reason why Tony had wanted to go in guns blazing from the get-go: Steve always gets broody when he’s off on solo missions. “Now can I make a bang?”

 _“Sure, Tony,”_ says Steve, and just as expected, the warmth is back in his voice. Affection. _“Come and get me.”_

Tony grins – and opens his mouth even wider, enough that he can stick his hand in and fish out the two false molars in the back of his mouth. It makes him gag a bit, but not for long. He fits one of the teeth against the crack where the door meets its frame – it sticks there with the same mild adhesive that had stuck it into his jaw – and raps on it, ten beats at carefully timed intervals.

Then he ducks under the bunk, pulling the mattress down to provide extra shielding. “What room did they give you?”

_“Second hallway from the main entrance, third on – ”_

The door blows off its hinges before Steve can finish, crushing the mattress against Tony – he pushes it away and rolls out from under the bunk, which is... nearly obliterated. Hmm. Maybe he should have packed a slightly lower-power charge. But it’s got the job done – he jumps over the blown door and takes in his surroundings. Red lights flaring, alarm bells ringing – “Third on the what?”

_“On the right!”_

“Got it – ” he skids down to the main doors just as two guards come barrelling through them, and all of Steve’s training takes over; he downs them with a handful of blows, although when driving his elbow into the second guy’s windpipe, he manages to wrench his shoulder at an odd angle. “Ow, damnit!”

 _“Force from the body, not the limb – you need to be in balance,”_ Steve scolds him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mutters, grabbing a gun and shock-stick. He’s running again even as he checks the safety on the gun – no time to lose. Third door, third door – “Knock knock,” he sings, and sets the charge. Then gets a good distance away, because there’s no steel bunk here to hide behind.

“Hey!” a shout comes down the corridor. “Put your hands up! I repeat, put your hands over your head –”

This guy is in full combat gear and has a riot shield. So do his three buddies. Dang.

“We have guests!” Tony says, and halfway down the hall the door on Steve’s room blows out. As the smoke clears Tony stays flattened against the wall – and watches.

Steve rolls out and into a crouch – legs coiled, muscles tensed, and the first guard – not so smart after all – raises his gun. It’s all the excuse Steve needs to _leap_ – erratically, beautifully, bouncing off of the wall and down onto the first guy, smashing his helmet between knee and concrete floor while bullets ricochet and hit nothing. The other three go down with cries of surprise; blood spatters against a wall. It’s a glorious symphony of motion, violent ecstasy – and even though when it’s done it means that Steve’s _safe_ again, Tony can’t help but feel disappointed.

“There’ll be more on the way,” Steve grunts, grabbing guns for himself. Being Steve, he’s conscientious enough to check the safety before running anywhere. He tosses one to Tony.

“Don’t worry.” Tony stows the gun and steps closer. “I have a plan.”

“Don’t you always?”

“You know me too well. Give me a boost?”

Tony actually does need the boost – he needs access to the lighting systems to punch enough direct power into the _other_ sub-dermal communication device he brought in with him – but pressed up against Steve’s body, it’s hard to remember that there’s any purpose in life other than being exactly where he is right now.

“Any excuse to get me to hold you,” murmurs Steve.

“You see right through me,” Tony says, pressing a sadly chaste kiss against his lips – no time for real distractions, Steve is all about discipline. His consolation prize is getting to climb Steve like a tree.

On the ground, one of the guards moans – not quite dead. Steve doesn’t shift his torso at all as he aims and fires; the shot rings out and the moaning stops. Tony groans, low in his throat, and rips the lighting panel off, scraping his wrist against the sharp edges of the fixture and exposing the biosynthetic contacts in his wrist to the ones for the bulbs. Blood drips down his arm; he feels his wrist numb as current runs through it, boosting his signal past what this place’s shielding can contain.

“Tony,” Steve says, gentle but disapproving.

“You can bandage me up later,” Tony says, a shudder going through his entire body as he receives the feedback confirming that their location has been marked: the armour is on its way from where he stashed it just outside the prison. This’ll be quick. He swings down from Steve’s shoulders. “And then I can give you a blowjob.”

“God, Tony,” groans Steve, and this time it’s him who leans in, catching Tony’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Damn them for sticking him in solitary. Steve doesn’t do well alone.

There’s shouting as the main doors are opened. They’re probably coming in with a fully kitted-out riot team, shields enough to cover the entire hallway.

At the other end of the hallway, the wall blows in as the Iron Man armour arrives, carrying Steve’s shield. The black star in the middle gleams like a promise, and Tony grins against Steve’s mouth. “Shall we?”

“Always,” Steve breathes back, lips curling into a smile, and they entwine their bloody hands and run.


End file.
